Brain Child Page 0,106

Fernando died, Alejandro returned to La Paloma.”

“Why?” Alex asked. “Why did he come back?”

María Torres stared at him for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible, but nonetheless her words seemed to fill the room. “Venganza,” she said. “He came for vengeance on the thieves and the murderers. Even when he was dying, he said he would never leave. From beyond the grave, he said. From beyond the grave, venganza.”

Alex emerged from the little house into the blazing sun of the September morning. He began walking through the village, pausing here and there, turning over the bits and pieces of the story María Torres had told him, examining them carefully, searching for the flaw. His mind told him that the answer he had come up with was impossible, but still the pieces of the story matched his strange memories too well. He knew, though, where he would find the ultimate truth, and what he would do once he found it.

The phone on his desk jangled loudly. For a moment Marsh was tempted to let it ring. Then he realized the call was coming in on his private line. Only a few people knew that number, and even they used it only when it was an emergency.

“I trust you aren’t going to force me to implement the provisions of the release,” Raymond Torres’s cold voice said.

“How did you get this number?”

“I’ve had this number since the moment I took on your son’s case, Dr. Lonsdale. Not that it matters. The only thing that matters is that your wife was to bring Alex to me today.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Dr. Torres,” Marsh replied. “We’ve discussed the matter, and it’s my decision that you can do Alex no more good. I’m afraid he won’t be coming back there anymore.”

There was a long silence, and when Torres’s voice finally came over the line again, its tone had hardened even further. “And I’m afraid that’s not your decision to make, Dr. Lonsdale.”

“Nonetheless,” Marsh replied, “that’s the decision I’ve made. And I wouldn’t advise you to try to come and get him, or have anyone else try to come and get him either. I’m his father, Dr. Torres, and despite your release, I have some rights.”

“I see,” Torres said, and Marsh thought he heard a sigh come through the phone. “Very well, I’m willing to strike a compromise with you. Bring Alex down this afternoon, and I will explain to you exactly what my procedures have been up until now, and why I think it’s necessary that he come back to the Institute.”

“Not a chance. Until I know exactly what you’ve done, you won’t see Alex again.”

In the privacy of his office, Raymond Torres slumped tiredly behind his desk. Too many hours of too little sleep had finally taken their toll, and he knew he was no longer thinking clearly. But he also knew that letting Alex leave the Institute yesterday had been a mistake. Whatever the consequences, he had to get him back. “Very well,” he said. “What time can I expect you?”

Marsh glanced at his appointment book. “A couple of hours?”

“Fine. And after you’ve heard what I have to say, I’m sure you’ll agree that Alex should be back here.” The line went dead in Marsh’s hand.

Alex paused at the garden gate, and stared at the high vine-covered wall that separated the patio from the street. Then, making up his mind, he went into the patio, then into the house. The house, as he had hoped it would be, was empty. He went to the garage and began searching through the mound of boxes that still sat, unpacked, against the back wall. Each of them was neatly marked with its contents, and it didn’t take him long to find the two he was looking for.

The hedge clippers were at the bottom of the first box. As Alex worked them loose from the tangle of other tools, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. And yet, he had to know. The vines covering the garden wall were part of the pattern, and he had to see for himself if he was right.

The book, after all, might have been wrong.

The clippers in hand, he left the garage and walked down the driveway to the sidewalk. Then, working slowly and deliberately, he began cutting the vines off as close to the ground as the strength in his arms and the thickness of the trunks would allow. He worked his